Meeting Maura
by Simahoyo
Summary: A young couple suffers a series of misscarriages and is waiting to adopt when they get an unusal offer.
1. Chapter 1

Meeting Maura, Chapter 1

by Simahoyo

**A young couple goes through too many miscarriages and now is waiting to get on a list to adopt.**

**An unusual opportunity presents itself.**

January 20th, 1976–Boston Medical Center.

Constance Isles sat up in her hospital bed hating things. She hated her doctor, for telling her that her pregnancy needed to be ended with surgery. She wanted this baby. She and Benny had hoped this one would really come to term safely. She hated that an etopic pregnancy had ended that dream.

She hated her mother's doctor for giving her DES for Morning Sickness. Constance imagined him as an Anglophone who didn't listen to her mother's halting English. She hated the pharmaceutical company that made DES. And most of all she hated herself.

She went through half a box of tissues before the door opened and Benny was holding her in his arms. Now she felt both better and worse. What kind of wife was she when she couldn't even manage to have a baby?

"My God, Connie. I'm so sorry. Don't yell, but, I think it's time to stop."

She pushed him away. "Stop? I'm no good at this Mother thing. I'm a failure. It's like I married Prince Charming, and now, someone killed that happily ever after." She pounded his chest, then stopped to cry some more.

"Hey...hey, we can adopt. Why should you go through hell any longer?"

Constance stopped, suddenly quiet. "Damn it, Benny, I'm not even a citizen. Don't I have to be a US citizen to adopt?" She looked at him–or rather someplace inside him. He sometimes believed she had that ability. "And don't your parents want an heir to the Isles name?"

"It's just a name. We could adopt a kid from Mars, and give them the Isles name. My folks love you. They won't care. I'll check with the lawyers about the citizen thing. It'll be fine."

"Mars? Couldn't we try a bit closer to home?"

"Ok. This planet only. And if you are going to be a Mom, maybe you should cut back on the swearing a little."

She gave him a mock slug, and laughed. He could always do to that to her. "I'll keep it to French."

So, they looked into adoption, and discovered that lists were long. Requirements were high, and it would take time. So, Constance held her head up, and went back to teaching at Harvard.

That semester she had an interesting student, who had some talent for drawing, but also seemed a bit more mature than most of the other students. His name was Patrick, and he must not have had a class right after hers, because he liked to stay and talk. After a while, she noticed he seemed to see through her carefully constructed persona of the upper class, educated woman. She was educated, but her horrific accent had needed years of work to rid herself of tell tale details.

Apparently Patrick had a ear for things like that. So, she shared her lower class background with him. Constance was shocked to discover that Patrick was the son of a local mafia leader, a man known to be vicious. Growing up in her neighborhood, she had learned how to keep her mouth shut. His secret was safe with her, and soon they were quite friendly.

Patrick had seemed to be growing more and more nervous over time. His drawings were good, but dark. Constance waited. She was cleaning up spilled ink from a clumsy student, when Patrick stopped, looking at her in that way that signaled he wanted to talk. She scrubbed up the last of the ink, and tossed the cleaning rag away, turning to face him.

The look on his face was troubling. He kept looking at the door, nervously.

"Professor , I have a problem. I hope you can help."

Constance sat down and motioned for Patrick to sit near her. He sat as if the chair was hot.

"I didn't tell anyone else about this...but I trust you. My girlfriend is pregnant."

Constance beat down her jealousy. She knew nothing about this young woman. It was time to shut and listen. She folded her hands in her lap.

"She wants to keep it. But she's a pre-med student and she's only eighteen. I thought about marrying her, but my old man told me I will not marry her, I will not let her have this kid, and if I do, He'll kill them."

His voice told her this was no exaggeration. Fear for this young woman and her child burned in Constance's chest.

"No.!" She felt her hands over her mouth. Patrick looked at her with a mixture of hope and fear.

"My old man will do it, if I can't figure something out. I've got to protect them. I have an idea. But it's cruel as hell. If I can convince my girlfriend our baby died at birth, I just need someone I can trust to take the baby."

Silence. It dragged on until Constance wanted to scream.. It was a contest and she was a strong woman. She waited. Time ticked by.

"Would you take my baby?", asked Patrick.

Want filled her soul. But his plan was so cruel.

She would be hurting that young mother the same way she had been hurt so many times. What kind of person would do this? What kind of person would let this mother and child die?

She needed Benny. She couldn't decide this all alone.

"Yes.", she heard herself say. _(What? Did you just say yes? Without a word to Benny? Are you insane?)_ Constance felt the blood drain from her face.


	2. Chapter 2

Meeting Maura Chapter 2

by Simahoyo

Constance pulled the reins back on her runaway mind. "Be strong, don't mess this up.", she told herself. She pinned Patrick with a look. "That was my vote. You need to talk to my husband to get his vote."

Patrick's look was appraising. He furrowed his brow, then nodded. "I'll talk to him. It's only fair that he know what he'd be getting into. Call him."

Constance walked over to the classroom telephone, and dialed. She turned to look at Patrick.

"Hello Grace. It's Constance. May I speak to E.G. please?

She waited. Benny was on the line. "Hi. I need to talk to you...it's important. Could you meet me at my classroom–the one on the third floor? Wonderful. I'll see you soon."

"I see you are going to let this all be a surprise. I hope the guy is up to it." and Patrick was half-smirking.

"You don't know him. I think you will be...impressed. If you don't mind, I have some papers to grade." Then she sat at her desk, took out her paperwork, and worked quietly until Benny popped in the door.

"Connie. What's up?", he went over and kissed her.

She stood, and indicated Patrick, still sitting in the chair.

"This is Patrick Doyle, a student in my drawing 101 class. He has made an interesting offer to me, but it involves both of us. You need to talk, and I'll meet you in the faculty reading room."

With that she left her future as a mother in the hands of her husband. She found herself pacing, and half praying–she fully trusted Benny, but didn't know if she trusted Patrick. She graded papers. She looked at a letter requesting a work of art from her for the faculty show. She worried about what kind of mother she might be. She knew she would have to do something about all that swearing. But who said they could adopt this child. She ran her fingers through her hair. By now her hands were shaking. Where was Benny? She paced some more.

The door opened. Benny walked in, and went straight to Constance. He put his arms around her and looked into her eyes. "That was weird."

"Yes. And...", oh hell, her voice was shaking.

"I want my lawyers to set everything up. What a mess."

"And?", she had taken his shoulders and was shaking him.

"If everything is on the up and up, we'll do it."

"That's a yes?"

"Yes."

Constance stood absolutely still, then threw her arms around his neck. "Oh Benny. I'm so happy. You'll be a wonderful Father."

"Whoa there, girl...that's IF the lawyers approve. And you'll be a great Mother."

Her face fell. "I don't know. My sister didn't think so."

"Oh Connie, you won't be doing everything all by yourself. There will be both of us. And you don't have to work right away. You can take a sabbatical, if you like. And my mother will be there if you have questions. And probably a bunch of embarrassing stories about me and Charles when we were kids." Then he picked her up and whirled her around.

Waiting was going to kill her. Constance was sure of it. She was also worried about doing such a cruel thing to this young mother. It got so bad, that she found herself going to confession. It was strange after all these years. She walked up the steps and into the wooden doors, whipping a lace head covering on before going through the inner doors.

It was automatic, stopping to cross herself with holy water, and going on inside. She stopped, looking at the lines at the confessionals. Since the age of seven, Constance had known the short lines were the ones to avoid. Those where the Fathers who gave stiff penalties–like doing all the stations of the cross. She went to the back of the longest line.

As she waited, the church filled her with memories. Her first communion, her parents taking Constance and her sister to confession each Saturday night. The funeral for her parents, and then never coming inside a church again until now. She still blamed God for taking her parents. Her own marriage had been courtesy of a Justice of the Peace, who was friends with her In-Laws.

The guilt was getting to her. And the line was getting closer. This new way of doing confession had her a bit rattled too. Would she choose the old way, with the screen so Father couldn't see her face? Or the new way, with her facing the Priest? She was holding a handkerchief in her hands and twisting it almost into knots. She was facing the door, and chose the old way, she went in, closed the door and knelt.

The priest coughed, letting her know to start.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned.", or am about to.

"How long has it been since your last confession?"

"Seven years."

She expected a gasp, but the priest was kind enough to keep his thoughts to himself.

"What is the nature of your sin?"

Constance took a deep breath, and started. "I'm contemplating doing something cruel in order to become a mother."

"What are you thinking of doing?", he asked.

"My husband and I have tried for years to have a baby. I've miscarried three times, and we are on a list to adopt, but the list is so long. We have been given a chance to be given a baby by the child's father, his father, the grandfather, has said he will kill both the mother and child. The only way to save them both is to tell the mother and grandfather the baby died, and to give it baby's father offered it to us." "You know this is a sin."

"I do, but father, isn't it a lesser sin than allowing the murder of an innocent woman and child?"

"Is this about them, or about you?"

"Both. I'm being selfish, yes, but I hurt for these innocents. The grandfather is a powerful man. An important man. I have no doubt that he will do what he has said."

"What of the child's future? There won't be a birth certificate. No legal adoption."

"There will be the proper records. Another sin. But the child will not suffer."

"You know this is wrong. I cannot absolve you–you know that, don't you?"

"I do. I cannot ask you to absolve this. I will carry my own part in this act. Thank you for listening to me, Father."

All the way home, the words pounded in her ears, "I will carry my own part in this act."

Guilt settled on her shoulders to live with the guilt for the terrible job she had done in raising her sister. Constance would just have to live with it.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Meeting Maura, Chapter 3

by Simahoyo

Constance tried to keep the legal and not so legal details out of sight and mind. She didn't want to know. She let Benny handle it all. However, there were things she couldn't avoid. Papers she had to sign. Knowing the mother was at a small private hospital owned by Patrick's mother's family added to her guilt and her excitement.

Finally, the day came when they would meet with the lawyer and Patrick to get his child. Benny was nervous, but Constance could hardly think straight. The lawyer was an old classmate of Benny's, and was well aware of what was actually going on. Scott Lindsay was an expert on adoption. Now she sat with Benny, holding hands and deep breathing. The office was nice, comfortable, and not garish. Finally, Patrick came in, holding a tiny baby.

Constance's heart started beating so fast, it worried her. Patrick played with the baby. He looked at her, and smiled.

"It's a girl. We named her Maura."

"Maura. It's a lovely name. What do you think?"

Benny smiled reassuringly at his wife. "We could keep that name. Do you want to?"

"Yes. It goes well with Isles."

Scott went through the paperwork. He stopped with one particular item. He adjusted his glasses.

"The paper where you and the mother signed over custody to Edward and Constance...how did you get her signature?"

Patrick looked right at Scott. "She signed. She was pretty drugged up, but it's her signature. And I want the right to see how Maura's doing–go to recitals and stuff. I'll never approach her. But I'd like to know how she's doing."

Benny looked at Constance. "Yes. As long as she's safe. We owe you that."

"Damn right.", said Patrick. "I tricked the woman I love. I hate myself for it. But it keeps them alive, her and Maura."

Scott shook his head. He was clearly uncomfortable. "Everything is in order. When this is done, we'll seal the records. That way no on can use them to harm this child or her mother." He turned papers to face The Isles family. "Sign here, and here, and you are parents."

They signed eagerly. The ink showed their bold signatures. Now the paperwork went into an envelope. Patrick stood, walked over to Constance, and put baby Maura into her arms.

She was so tiny. So perfect. Her fingernails were unbelievably small. She moved a fist, and opened her mouth with such an amazing sound.

Somewhere Scott got a camera and took a picture. Constance didn't want to let go of her, but she put her into Benny's arms. The look on his face was one of pure love. She almost fit into one of his hands. The camera clicked again.

Patrick looked so sad, sitting there alone. He stood up, thanked them, and left, his shoulders slumped.

Now it was nights of feeding and changing, and days of admiring and rocking. Bottles and diapers took over the house. Maura was the center of their world. Constance read about baby care and quizzed her Mother-in-law. They were getting used to being parents.

The mail came about three weeks later. It was a powerful drawing. Constance knew it was Patrick's style. The subject constricted her throat, and the tears flowed as she looked at the young mother knelling before a tiny grave. She knew what she had done to this woman. She would have to live with it.

Maura cried for her and she went to this wonderful gift that she had paid for with a part of her soul.

The End


End file.
